Magnetized
by Poltergeist123
Summary: Bianca thought she had already met her soul mate: that somebody who was her mirror, her other half, the person who made her life whole. She couldn't be any more wrong! What will happen when some karmic ties from her Dark Future resurface in her Changed Future? Read and find out!
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

One or two would say that four letter word beginning with 'F', which has two vowels, and a hard 'T' sound at the end has peculiar sense of humor. Looking back on one momentous New Years Eve, Bianca Reid would agree entirely. She had always believed that the whole timeline of the universe was already been written out, so everything that happens is meant to happen, and there is nothing that can change it. This included the way she found the love of her life in a very unlikely scenario.

Standing in front of her on that fateful night was the man she was meant to be with from the inside out. The tragic thing was that she didn't know he was her soul mate at the time, but honestly neither did he because had every intention in the world to kill her, and therefore had a gun pointed at her.

He made her heart beat faster, her hands sweat and her whole body tremble. She couldn't believe what was actually happening, and part of her did wonder if she was dreaming, or somehow had been transported into the middle of some gangster. She started to imagine a scenario of her slumped against the wall, and clutching onto her chest as her blood gushed out. It made her feel frustrated that she couldn't take control of the situation because she was defenseless. However, she realized that panicking wouldn't help, and that her best bet for not getting shot was to wait out the storm. Switching her perfected poker face on, she slowly lifted up her hands and walked toward him.

"Take whatever you want," she said in a low, frightened tone of voice. "Cash is in the register and there is some more in the safe."`

"Oh, I don't want any money," he smirked, his finger on the trigger on the gun. "I want you."

"Why do you want me?"

"It was you," he said, still pointing the gun at her. "I know for a fact it was you."

"What?"

His anger began to rise. "Don't act like you don't know."

"I really don't," she insisted, wondering why this man wanted to kill her. "I really don't."

She saw in his _hazel_ eye's complete detestation as he placed the gun next to her temple. Her heart was racing, threatening to break through her ribcage. She could feel shivers running down her spine, and goose bumps rising on her arms. She didn't want to die. She had to think of something, and fast if she was going to get out of this one. First, she needed to find out why...

* * *

Last January

**San Francisco, California, 2026**

A first dance as a newlywed couple _was_ the perfect way to bring in the previous New Year. A doting groom wrapped his arms around his bride's waist and she threw her arms over his shoulders. They slowly swayed on the dance floor together, looking deeply into each others eyes. Everyone watching them could tell that the Grays' were excited about embarking on their journey through life together.

Most 'good girls' don't end up marrying the 'bad boy.' Regardless, Bianca won the game and got the 'bad boy' to fall for her. Austin liked chasing girls he couldn't get. She came across as independent, mysterious and unattainable. Her devious plan worked because she has his ring on her finger.

The groom was handsome with his sleek black hair, strong jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to make every girl melt right under his stare. Just by looking at him you can tell he's rebellious. The downright playful smirk that played on his face showed off his cockiness. He's confident, and smarter than the average guy, but the archetypal bad boy. He can be a gangster, or a gentleman depending on the situation. Both were born into Phoenix families, but he was expected to live how prior generations of his family did. Breaking up with his Coven was like asking for a death sentence.

Nevertheless, he had disassociated himself from The Phoenix. Sadly, walking away had put him in a dangerous position and her in inadvertently a worse one. She did live in fear that if the Phoenix wanted to retaliate for his departure that they'd hurt her. This regrettably happened on the later parts of New Years day. Sometimes the "new beginnings" turn out to be "painful endings."

A stealthy Phoenix barged into their home in the later hours of New Years Day. This man gunned Austin down. Before she could aid her dying husband, she was cornered the man and threw down onto their bed. She wanted to scream, fill the room with the sound of her anguish, but she couldn't. After the assault, her legs wanted to run, to find anyone, but they lay inert at her side. The theft of her own body was devastating for her. It was even more devastating to realize that Austin had died.

She was held captive for seemingly forever. The salt of Bianca's soul bleed out as it poured from her bruised eyes. She saw the darkness that she knew would soon swallow her and she feared it, but longed for it to take her. The dark figure would always be menacingly close to her. His face was hidden, beneath his dark hood and a pair of sunglasses. Her entire body trembled every time he laid a hand on her. This man was going to kill her, but first he was taking pleasure in her suffering, and she couldn't stop it. Sickly numb, she allowed him to do as he pleased; too exhausted to fight against him. He had already done his worst to her. She prayed that her misery would end sooner than later.

That anticipated time came two days later. She woke abruptly as she heard a metallic sound, indicating the man had taken out a knife. She tried to escape him, but he predictably stopped her. It was futile fighting against him, but she wasn't didn't want to die. Ultimately, the adrenaline took control of her and she didn't think about what she was doing. Somehow, she managed to get away from him, ran out apartment door, to afraid to ever look back. She ran fast, only seeing a blur of trees and images pass as she searched for someone to help her. She wasn't sure if she had killed him...

Prior to this day, she didn't believe in taking an eye for an eye, and she would rather turn the other cheek. On the other hand, seeking vengeance was necessity because her self-worth is destroyed. Now, she wanted to take revenge - calculated, sharp, swift revenge on those who had harmed her and brutally murdered Austin. The retaliation would re-balance the fairness quotient of the universe. It would instantly make her feel empowered, and able to move on without lingering resentment. He was getting out of the coven, but to get her vengeance she had to somehow get in.

* * *

Austin's funeral service was a fortnight later on Tuesday morning. There were red flowers everywhere, the air was tense, and various sets of teary eyes looked at the black casket. Grey clouds grew darker, floating moistly above the sorrowful mass. Then Bianca saw it, the whole reason that she didn't want to attend the funeral. The coffin: Its black refined surface was dabbed with spots of rain from the clouds, dimming its reflections. She closed her eyes, trying not to allow the tears to fracture from her already watery eyes. She knew that Austin was inside the coffin, and he was no longer alive. It felt like hundreds of sets of eyes were on her as she prepared to give her eulogy to the man she had loved for the last year.

She closed her eyes, counted to ten and took a deep breath. "Austin was such a magnificent man. I'm not sure I can really articulate just how much I will miss him. Not only was he a wonderful partner, but a wonderful best friend, colleague and so much more to so many people. He prided himself on being a Southern gentleman – refined and polite, but always quick with a witty remark. His cheerfulness and geniality attracted people the moment he walked in the room, and no one could forget his raucous and contagious laugh. He was my soul mate and my inspiration – my unwavering rock that helped me through thick and thin. He supported and loved us all, and was always there to help navigate through life's challenges. I don't know what I'm going to do without him. I hope his soul rests in peace."

She watched as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground, but could still not believe she would never see him again. Her love for him will never leave her even though he is out of sight.

"Why did they have to kill him? Why?" Bianca sobbed, standing at his graveside next her younger brother. "It's just isn't fair for someone to be able to steal a life just like that!"

Clay looked sympathetically at his sister. "I know, I know but-"

She stormed off in tears."You don't know anything. I loved him! I would have rather it been me!"

Why did it happen to her? When she finally found the sunshine of her life, why did the rain have to come again? She dragged herself away from the cemetery with a broken heart and a battered soul. She ended up at the place where these unspeakable things happened – her former home. Standing inside her old bedroom made her feel physically sick. She was still haunted by the flashbacks.

She was going to try claim back what was taken from her. Her enemies would feel the same hurt, anguish they had caused her. Her pain cannot be expressed just with words, and usually the best lesson is when a person experiences the same misery. True harm had been done, and she was unquestionably going down the revenge route, but she had to stay ahead of the game and think of the possible consequences. Admittedly, it didn't matter to her because she had lost everything.

After contemplating for a way to embark on her plan, she ventured into a well known Phoenix haunt, let the door slam behind her and she walked to the end bar stool. She sat down, unbuttoned her coat and pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her purse which she slapped on the bar. Without a word the bartender brought her a shot of tequila and a glass of wine. She tossed back the shot in one gulp, sighed deeply, and then washed it down the glass of wine. She ordered another.

She sipped the wine more slowly, with no evident interest in those around her, or the blaring sound system. She slumped lower on the bar stool and leaned on the bar for support. She reached into the bowl on the bar and pulled out a handful of pretzels, eating them slowly, one at a time, and glanced around the busy bar. Her gaze eventually stopped at a man entering the bar. She recognized the man as the member of the Phoenixes Californian Chapter. She and Austin had attended an extremely lavish party of his last fall. She gawked unintentionally at him as she tried to remember his name. He sat down on an empty bar-stool next her. The man turned his head to look at her. She smiled back and he instantly turned away from her, but he lured her back to his unwavering stare.

He cleared his throat to get her attention. "I'd like to be reincarnated as one of your tears, because I'd be born in your eyes, live on your face, and die on your lips," said the man, making her laugh at cheesy chat up line as she picked up her glass of wine. "What? Do you have any better ones?"

Bianca turned to look at the man. "You're like a cappuccino: hot, sweet, and you make me nervous."

"Touché, I'm Damon Blake," he introduced, confirming her suspicions about his identify. He looked at her up and down. "Why haven't I seen your face here before in this fine establishment?"

"I'm Bianca," she said, subtly drawing attention to the Phoenix birthmark on her wrist. He noticed it immediately because it was similar to his one. "And this is my first time at this fine establish."

Ordinarily, she would have found Damon extremely handsome, but recent events had made her shy away from the company of men. He was her type with blue -black razor-cut hair, chic dressy attire, and the countless tattoos covering his body. Austin did have a slightly similar appearance to him.

"What's your poison?" he asked, motioning the bartender. "I can't let a pretty girl like you stay thirsty."

Damon was instantly drawn to Bianca because of her red wavy hair, old Hollywood movie star looks, and her petite but curvy frame. Her personality and a wit made her interesting to talk to over the following hours. She had a great ass which never hurt either.

"I think I'll break into the local zoo and make the lion like me," Bianca slurred, now intoxicated. "And I'm going to tell that stranger she has streaky tan on her legs and her skirt doesn't look good on her."

"Oh no, the whole room is wobbly, and I can't think straight," he laughed, feeling now under the influence too. "I don't know where the bathroom is and I feel like I'm going to be sick"

"I hope you still remember how to get to your room?" she enquired, running her fingertips along his arm. "Can we continue our drinking somewhere more private?"

She angled her head, leaned in till their mouths met precisely. He didn't kiss her back, but instead gently pushed her away. Truthfully, she was relieved that he turned down her advances. It was far too soon for her to become intimate with someone. However, the reason the brush off became clear when she noticed the gold wedding band on his ring finger. She had hit on a married man...

She pulled away and held her hands up in horror. "My God, I'm sorry! You're wife is going to kill me..."

"It's okay! A little harmless flirting is allowed," he assured, fidgeting with his wedding band. "I'm going to go, but I'll call you a cab. Get yourself home safe, darling."

And with that he was gone. But he wouldn't stay away for long.

* * *

Cramped like a vacuum-packed sardine, Bianca's brother _Clay _cursed again at the driver of the hearse in front of him. He detested sitting idle and going nowhere, wasting costly fuel at the same time. Since leaving band practice, he had literally sat in traffic for countless hours, and all he couldn't breathe most of way because of the smog-it gave him a pounding migraine. There were times when he would think that things were finally running, and he would begin to cruise, but he had to throw on the breaks because the moron in front of him wasn't paying attention. Being stuck in traffic was a frustrating, though temporary, delay. He knows that he'll get to his destination eventually, and he could adjust to this situation. Feeling stuck in life is a much worse feeling. It feels permanent. He had lost track of his destination, and can't see a way out. It's a heavy dissatisfaction that eats at his soul.

Meanwhile, driving the hearse in front, a smile always played on _Chris Halliwell's_ lips despite him living an internal nightmare. As he continued to smirk, his head was bursting because he was finding it difficult to hold on to reality. He should be used to living like this by now. He was diagnosed as schizophrenic at the age of fourteen. The voices' have been tormenting him since his adolescence.

Some sense of routine is essential to his life. He'd always wake up at the crack of dawn, eat breakfast, and drive thirty minutes to his work. However, his job was anything but normal. At the end of the day, it was just a job, and he completely loved his profession. Honestly, he couldn't imagine doing anything else. He could always work easier with _dead_ than the living. The dead hurt you or can't sue or...

_BANG, smash, smack, crash, BOOM!_

All of a sudden, the hearse lurched and Chris was thrown forward brutally. The seat belt bit into his chest and it knocked the wind out of him. The sound of raining glass echoed in her ears as an airbag exploded in his face. The squeal of tires, the bang of car connecting with another object, and the sound of smashing glass overwhelmed Clay. It was when the airbag burst in this face he knew he has been involved in an accident. This wasn't ideal because he was borrowing Bianca's expensive car.

Clay didn't feel the paramedics messing with him. It was like he couldn't even feel his injuries at first because of the shock. He gave the police all the information so they could fill out the accident report. The car accident happened fast...It was very disorienting. It was loud, everything becomes still and quiet right after the impact. The airbags deployed, smoke rose from the dashboard and it felt like the car was on fire. Chris knew that he was lucky to be alive, but he was on the warpath.

"Hey, do you have a minute?" Chris shouted, walking towards Clay who sitting on a sidewalk next to his car. "Haven't you heard of watching where you're going?"

Clay looked straight ahead. "It was totally your fault. You made me slam on the breaks!"

"I was driving within the speed limit and stopped when I had seen a pedestrian crossing a red light," Chris exclaimed, waving his arms. "I was stationary for a few seconds then you came from around the corner and hit me from behind. I'm driving a fucking hearse, man. It's hard to miss!"

Clay lifted his head to look at Chris. It might have been a slight possibility, but there was a chance that he could have met him before. He did look familiar. He was tall and athletic, with a mop of dark hair and heavy, serious brows that were offset by a boyish grin. His pair of green eyes now stared at him with concern.

"Are you okay? You look like you have seen a ghost," Chris commented, moving to sit on the kerb next to Clay. "But seriously, you will be okay by tomorrow. I suggest a long soak in the bath to ease your aches. If you are no better in the morning, go and see your doctor or go to ER."

"Thanks for your concern, but I'm okay," Clay said, searching for his packet of cigarettes. He found them and shakily lit one. "You should be getting on your way or something. You have my details and I have yours. My people will call you're people and sort out everything."

"Come on man, I don't care about a company car," Chris sighed. "I'm glad that no one was killed or seriously injured. I'm badly bruised, but I can live with that. I need to take a few days off work, though."

"Look, I'm sorry," Clay apologized, stopping because he didn't know his name. He sighed. "Sorry, I'm just a little rattled. I'm Clay Reid, btw."

"I'm Chris Perry," he introduced, giving him a look that fell short of a smile. Then the right side of his upper lip went up. "Haven't I met you someplace before? "

Clay found Chris's eyes. "Yes, that's why I don't go there anymore. I'm only kidding! I was going to ask you that. Do you haunt any of the clubs in San Francisco? The Cat Club, the Death Guild club or the Lookout?"

"No, Harvey's is more up my street," Chris replied. "I love that place. The food is magnificent - high end diner food. My mother was a professional chef, so I would know what decent food is. If you don't drink one of their Bloody Marys, you are dead wrong."

His words made Clay look down at Chris's socks. From his previous experiences, he had learned that straight guys generally don't care about the state of their socks - they're covered by shoes. But a gay guy will take pride in his. His were clean, didn't smell or have holes. Plus, he had mentioned he liked Harvey's, which was popular haunt for gay men like him. It was concluded that Chris was either gay or bisexual. Either way, he probably didn't have a chance with him because he was out of his league.

Chris smirked because he knew what he was doing. "So, are you gonna ask me out?"

"Excuse me, what makes you think that I'd ever go out with someone like you?" Clay scoffed, flabbergasted by Chris's straightforwardness. An offended Chris prepared to stand, but Clay quickly apologized before he could. "Sorry for being a little defensive. I just turned twenty five and I have only accepted myself as being gay, so I'm still a little nervous and weary about hitting on men and vice versa. "

"Don't worry, I totally get it," Chris disclosed, turning his body slightly towards Clay. "My advice, gay or straight, is be yourself and don't try and be something you're not, that's usually a turn off for most people, including me. Just because you've come out doesn't mean you should change anything about how you talk, walk or dance. I believe that sexuality is only a tiny part a person. I'm Chris Perry, I'm attracted to attractive people, but I don't let that define who I am."

A paused followed, and Clay cleared his throat. "You're just attracted to attractive people? What does that even mean?"

"That I'm developing a thing for brunettes with massive brown eyes," Chris said, pulling a business card out of his back pocket and handing it to Clay. He smirked. "Did you say that you're straight? So is spaghetti until you heat it up."

"I didn't," Clay said, accepting the business card off him. Judging the smile on Chris's face he was only teasing him. He smiled back. "I must be insane for asking this, but how about we get some coffee tomorrow afternoon?"

"That wasn't hard, wasn't it?" Chris agreed, standing. "I'll meet you outside Golden Gate Park tomorrow at midday. I'll bring the coffee."

"Sure," he nodded, placing Chris's business card into his jeans pocket. "So, I'll meet you tomorrow at three, then? I guess today hasn't been that bad after all."

"It hasn't," Chris said, stepping backwards and beginning to walk away. "Give me a call later to tell me how you are!"

Clay smiled as Chris walked away because he would be seeing him again. Chris decided not to go into work, and leisurely strolled towards his apartment because his ride was banged up. His cell phone rang. A smile crossed his face realizing it was a withheld number. He thought it was Clay. The smile on his vanished as he answered his phone. It was a psychiatrist on the phone, concerned about his cousin, Dominic, or _Henry Junior_ as Chris knew him as. He was asked to fly out to Nevada at once.

* * *

One Day Earlier

**Las Vegas, Nevada.**

Being in high school wasn't a cake walk for seventeen year old Dominic Mercer. He sighed as he looked at his battered reflection in a washroom mirror. His left eye was bruised and he had a badly swollen lip. His eyes _hazel_ were a void of any emotion. The soul behind them had died long ago.

Being bullied is one of the worst feelings on Earth. It makes you hate yourself, hate how you look and your life. It's like he's the only one in the world who appreciates him and he isolates himself. He just wants to die. He even cuts himself, it was cathartic at first, but he quickly hated himself again.

Everyday it's something... Today it was really bad and he got into a fist fight with a bully. The teachers didn't do anything about it, so he fought back. You hit him; he'd smash you in the mouth with a knuckle-sandwich. You come up behind him and do the knee in the back of the locked-knee for a joke - he'd turn around and kick you in the balls. He'd admit this is probably not the best method of conflict-resolution, but it certainly works. However, the bullying was becoming worse.

Caleb, his Grandfather didn't seem to pay attention to his anguish. Plus, it feels as if he will never be proud of him no matter what he does. Caleb is a joker, so he's always putting him down to get some laughs in. He doesn't know what he can do to change his Grandfather's view on him. He has good grades, has been accepted into a college, and is planning to do a four-year business course. He's even dabbled in the Vegas Underworld him to make him proud. However, that's not enough for Caleb. He passes by him, hoping that he'd maybe give him some sort of love, maybe even a "how are you?"

The only thing he gets from him is a look of disbelief and then he looks away. Sometimes it feels as if he sees through him. He hasn't tried talking to him because he believes he'd only shoot him down even more than he has already. He was feeling extremely lonely, thinking of packing up and going on the road to nowhere, and hoping that his elderly Grandfather can make it without him around.

He took a deep breath as he pushed open the classroom door. As it swung shut behind him, every eye in the room turned his way. Everyone in the class is staring at him with pity.

"Why are you late?" asked Mrs Jones, his calculus teacher. "Class started twenty minutes ago."

He bit his lip and mumbled. "Isn't it obvious?"

Mrs Jones sighs. "Detention for the next two weeks and don't let me catch you walking into my class late again!"

"Fuck this," he shouted, storming out of the classroom and slamming the door loudly behind him.

He ran so fast that he thought that his legs are going to explode. He moved as fast as they can possibly take him, heading towards the house he shared with his Grandfather. Caleb was home and sitting in the kitchen, reading a paper, and drinking a glass of bourbon. He put down the newspaper as his Grandson bounded into the kitchen.

Henry could swear that he has never seen his Grandfather smile. His aged skin was moulded into an almost permanent scowl. Years of unhappiness were etched by every deep line and wrinkle on his face. His pensive eyes never focused on anything as he seemed to be permanently lost deep into his thoughts and unhappiness. His lips were slightly turned down and his forehead had deep creases that pulled his eyebrows down, as if he were glaring.

Caleb cleared his throat. "How was school today?"

"It was fine," he lied, thinking it was horrendous. He sighed that Caleb didn't notice his bruised face. "Thanks for asking...my face don't hurt that much."

Caleb raised an eyebrow at him as he picked up his glass of bourbon. The thing all humans have in common is the desire to feel loved, appreciated, validated for who they are. Henry is going through some extreme insecurity, but no one seems to care or notice. Due to various childhood traumas, he felt unworthy of being loved, and that that's why he craves his Grandfather's love.

"Are you staying in tonight? You should go out more," Caleb said, picking up a newspaper. "Do some more exercise, take up a new hobby, do something that you enjoy. Cheer up because you can't be sad all the time."

Henry mumbled."Yes I can because it's a massive part of being Bi-Polar, but you would know that I am if you actually talked to me."

"A person your age should be having the time of your life, but you're wallowing in self pity," Caleb chortled, turning the pages and not seeing the stunned expression on his Grandson's face. "You don't like feeling that way? So, change it. It's all in your head."

"Yes it is," Henry snapped. "Do you want a cookie with that observation?"

Caleb glared at him over the top of the newspaper. "Have you gotten tired yet of all this me-me-me stuff?"

These remarks made Henry feel like his heart was ripped out of his chest and dragged around in front of him. He don't even know himself anymore, and he is genuinely afraid that he's changed into someone who will never be normal again - that all of the things he liked about himself are gone, and that no one feels close to him the way they used to. His words were confirming his worst fears. He swept furiously out of his grandfather's house like a turbulent hurricane.

Caleb shouted at him. "Go get a haircut, a new set of clothes, and new attitude while you're at it!"

Henry had always felt as though he was alone, and that he would be alone forever. This agonizing feeling wouldn't go away. As he walked, hundreds of thoughts and feelings went through his head. The self hatred for being 'crazy,' the lack of control he has over his life, and the pain, frustration and fear, anxiety, and guilt over what he was going to do, but still, on some level, he felt what he was thinking of doing was for the best. The way he was going to do it was very metaphorical. Literally, he was 'burning all his bridges' in life. What more poetic way to commit suicide than jump off a Las Vegas bridge?

Death would not be immediate, but his chances of being rescued are between slim and none. His feet became heavier as he got closer to his death. A flash Mercedes slowed down as he climbed over the bridges barrier, but it sped up and carried on towards its destination. He looked down at the water, feeling tears coming to his eyes. The emotional torment would end, but he was quite scared of the unknown. However, he would feel a sense of relief, no longer having to bear the pain that has caused him to feeling suicidal in first place. He would finally feel at peace.

One for lifted from the ground, but the sound of a car speeding down the bridge made it make contact with the concrete again. It was the silver Mercedes. A woman exited, darted out of the car and stopped a few feet away from him. The woman was beautiful in the twilight_, _eerily wasn't sure if this woman was real, or actually a guardian angel. He stared blankly at her as she walked toward him.

The woman grabbed onto his arm. "Look, I'm not going to tell you not to do it, but suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem , you just need to focus on talking and getting the hurt out and you will have less and less of the thoughts, but probably never a total end to them. I know things may seem rather bleak right now, but I can promise you that this will not last forever."

"I'm just so sick of life like this. It seems like no one cares about me," he stressed. "I've been to counseling so many times and I've called many suicide hot lines. Nothing changes my mind. I feel like no one wants me here. I've been like this for a while. Everyone says I have a purpose but I honestly don't feel like I do. Is there any hope for me at all? Or should I just give up and say screw it?"

"Please, don't give up, sweetie," responded the woman, rubbing his arm. "I'm sorry to hear you're struggling, I get what you're saying, but are you really going to give up like that? Come on, life is full of opportunities and you just have to find some that you like. I'm not always happy with life and I might feel a little depressed, but never enough to want to kill myself. To me personally, being a competitive person, I look at it as giving up and quitting on life. Maybe you should try talking to someone, like a good friend, or a close family member. You say that you don't care who misses you but do you really? Think about your life and the people in it, do you want to make them feel like shit? Come with me, we can talk about his and find a way to sort things out. You can't come back from death."

The woman had a point. He really didn't want to die, but he didn't want to live this way anymore. He chose to fight for his life till he saw better days. The woman pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly, afraid to let him go.

"Thank you," he whispered, resting his head on his shoulder. "I probably would have gone through it if you didn't turn up."

"Life can and will be hard, to the point you want to kill yourself, but does that really solve anything?" she asked, letting go of him. "No, it doesn't. You have to hold your head high and don't let anyone get to you. Things will get better. Things do happen for a reason. And don't hate yourself, it makes things worse. Go find the power to live on, and please don't do anything stupid! Now, let's get some coffee, talk about everything. I think someone listening to you is something that is that you need."

He agreed to go with her because he needed someone to talk to. The drive towards a coffee shop was silent. In Henry's life, too much silence in his life was deafening. Some people like him fear silence because it opens the way for him to think about things that trouble them, including past failures, and the things that made him think that suicide was his only way out.

The woman cleared her throat. "You haven't mentioned your name."

"Dominic Mercer," he introduced, turning his head to face her. "But everyone calls me Nick. What's yours?"

"I'm Hazel Blake," she replied, pulling her car into the parking lot of a coffee chain. She turned off the engine. "But everyone calls me Haze."

Hazel exited her car and Henry followed close behind. She sat down at a booth and ordered two black coffees. Being socially awkward, he waited for Hazel to start the conversation.

Hazel laughed as she stirred her coffee. "Come on; let's hear your best line."

"I don't have one," he gulped, caught off guard by what she said. "And girls hate pick up lines when they're not interested in being picked up."

"Hmm," said the woman, running a hand through her long hair. "Who says I'm not interested in getting picked up?"

"I'm guessing that you get hit on all the time and that must be exhausting," he answered, thinking carefully of his response. "Personally, I think women should be respected and should be expected to be treated like a human being and not a dog."

"Aww, you're sweet," Hazel laughed, leaning forward and running her hand down his cheek. "Wow, someone who is actually nice, adorable and down to earth. I bet all the girls go crazy for you!"

He looked away nervously, but he couldn't hide the red glow that came over his face. "Why would say that I'm those things?"

She smiled. "Well, you have a fantastic smile glued your lips, an intelligence lurking behind those golden eyes, and another quality I can't put my finger on yet."

"Now, you're the sweet one," he smiled, straightening his posture. "Most girls won't give me a second look. They think I'm weird, which I am, but ..."

"I think you can get any girl you want if you shake up your image," she enlightened. "Maybe cut your hair, get some near clothes and build on your self confidence. Confidence is seductive to most girls."

"So I have to change everything about myself?" he asked, rolling his eyes, thinking that she is copying what his grandfather said. "Changing the way I look like isn't gonna make me popular or majorly improve my life."

Hazel shook her head. "It might. I do think you would suit Layers, angled towards face and front bangs. And while you're at maybe get some contact lenses, some new clothes..."

"I'm not changing the way I am!" he retorted, standing from the table. His defensive wall eventually crumbled as he sat back down. "Okay, you're right. I know what I do wrong; I know what I want to change and who I want to be. I just don't know how to do it. People don't seem to like who I am at all, I really don't like who I am either. I don't know how to make myself into a different person and keep it that way. Can you help me please?"

"I can't, but my aunt Lana can. She is top celebrity stylist," she agreed, reaching forward and grabbing his hand. "Yes, you can change yourself. Some things will be easy. Some will be hard. If you are determined to do it, you can and will do it. People are always changing all their lives. The decision of what kind of changes will occur within you are yours, so if you work hard to be someone better, someone you'd be prouder of, then you can do it."

* * *

"What do you think?" Hazel asked, holding a mirror up. "I think you look incredibly handsome. You really suit that haircut, those clothes, and you can really see those golden eyes now that you have got rid of those hideous glasses. Contact lenses are the way forward for you."

He tilted his head as he looked at his altered reflection in the mirror. It was different, not awful, but different. It was something he could grow to like. The real test would be how other responded to his impromptu makeover. It would be nice start again and feel good once again...for the first time.

"I think that I like it," he said, running his hands through his newly styled hair. "Although, it will take a while to get used to the fringe, but I do like it. Although, I don't think my grandfather will like it."

"Do what makes you happy, the rest doesn't matter," Hazel suggested, sitting next to Henry onto of her Queen-sized bed. "The happiest person is one who has gone through the darkest times."

Henry frowned. "He is the only biological family that I have, yet I'm not even sure I can call him family. He never asks how I am; he doesn't give me any money, and he basically doesn't really care about me. I get quite high grades, but when I tell him he's just like 'that's okay'. He is extremely negative about everything I do, no matter how impressive it can be. This tends over time to consume my confidence and enthusiasm in the things I do every day."

"Then leave," she said, closing over a pizza box. "If you're a strong person then it will be easy for you to leave, don't let guilt get the best of you, if you sit and think how he'll feel then you'll never be happy! Go and chase your dream hun, don't let anything stop you, be strong, I promise you it's worth it."

"You know what? You're right," he agreed, putting the mirror down on the bed."I'll think of way to deal with everything later."

"You're really tense; I can help you relax," she said, leaning towards and oak dresser and opening it. She pulled out a silver tin and closed the drawer over. "This will chill you out a little."

He watched Hazel place a good amount of marijuana on the middle of the paper in a line, and very carefully rolling the paper around it. She lit the joint, took at draw and then passed it to him. He raised an eyebrow as he accepted the joint off her. One draw of the joint lead to finishing the joint and that lead to another one. Being high was like being in a golden zone. A place outside the physical world of space and time, it was like he looking at the universe in front of him while the sunrise shines through the trees and bushes and the warm air gently brushes against his skin as he lay down on the bed relaxed with a smile on his face and not a single worry in the world.

"I feel like my head is floating 2-3 inches above my neck," he commented, lying sprawled out on top of the bed. She laughed at him because he was stoned. "I can't believe that I haven't done this before!"

Hazel said something, but he couldn't concentrate, couldn't hear anything. He got the synopsis of what she said when she climbed on top of him. She gave him soft kisses and slowly started to make out with him. He had to hide his excitement about this being his first kiss. Things were going to fast.

She stopped kissing him because she sensed his nervousness. "What's the matter? It'll feel amazing because your senses are heightened, you won't regret it."

"I'm sure I won't regret it," he stuttered, his eyes shifting manically around the room. He watched her slant her head at him for a few seconds. A smile crossed her face realizing the reason behind his hesitation. This made him feel embarrassed. "What's the big deal? Sex is a pleasure-giving activity, so what? It's not that interesting. I have better things to think about and for sure I'm not going to lower any standard for..."

He stopped because Hazel had unbuttoned her shirt. She leaned over him again, kissed his neck and started undressing him. She was indubitably a cougar with her French manicured claws digging into his skin, but he couldn't care less in reality. This would an experience he wouldn't forget, and one the twist of fate wouldn't allow him too...

* * *

The next morning he felt like he was skydiving and landing on a field of marshmallows. Even the prospect going to school hangover seemed exquisite. Hazel still looked beautiful in the daylight, still eerily beautiful. He couldn't stop looking at her as she drove him to school.

"Oi," she laughed, pushing his face to the other side gently. Her fingertip ran over his cheek again. "You're distracting me."

He smiled. "I'm the distracting one?"

"What is your plan for life after you graduate?" she asked, pulling her car outside of his school and turning her engine off. "You don't have long left now. I assume you graduate soon?"

"I want to become a tattoo artist," Henry said. "I have been drawing for years and I have designed some tattoos for some friends, but now I would love to see my art on someone done by me."

"I think you can do it," she nodded, encouraging his dream. "I imagine that it'll take years, but I do think that you do have some raw talent from the pictures you shown me. Someone who can't draw or color inside the lines isn't going to be a good candidate for being a tattoo artist."

"Do you think I can do it?" Henry inquired, taken aback by hers support. "Do you think that I have talent?"

"Yes, but you need to hone your raw talent to develop talent into skill. Skill can come from fine art classes, working with a fellow artist, learning technique from books, or all of the above. On top of that, you need to practice, practice, and practice," she said. "Once you're a competent artist on paper, you'll need to build a portfolio. A portfolio is a case or binder containing examples of your art, to show your different skills. The next thing you need is an apprenticeship. An apprentice is someone who learns a skill from someone else already skilled in the trade. Sometimes an apprenticeship can be free, but many times they cost thousands of dollars. You will need to find a way to save or acquire the money needed for your training."

"I doubt Caleb would approve," Henry sighed. "He wants me to become to study business..."

"Don't let him squash you're dreams," she interrupted. "You'll be eighteen in a couple of months and you can do whatever you want."

Hazel was right and she echoed what Chris said. He would soon be considered as an adult and able to make his own decisions. Should he follow his dreams or stick to reality? However, he would kick himself every day for not doing what he wanted to. He has to give his dream at least one good honest push, where he devotes yourself entirely to it. If it doesn't work, he can at least return to reality with the satisfaction of knowing that he did his best. He was going to make himself happy.

"You better go," she said, hearing the school bell ring. "Maybe we'll cross paths in the future?"

"I hope so, Haze," he wished, leaning in towards her and kissed her. He pulled away as he gripped the door handle. "Well this is goodbye, Take care."

Grinning, he watched her drive away before he walked into his high school. An unearthly silence fell upon the school corridor as he walked down it to his homeroom classroom. All voices hushed and movement paused as if time itself did not dare continue in his dramatically altered presence. This is when he remembered the makeover. He smiled realizing that he had shocked everyone into silence. He thought he was alright looking, but he would admit he has days were he felt completely ugly, and other times he would have days were he felt he was good looking – like today. He felt like a God.

The rest of the day felt as if he was living a dream. Mostly, everyone was unbelievably nice to him, complementing him on his new look, but around the last bell he was pulled out of his fantasy land by some of his tormentors. He found himself on the receiving end of a savage beating.

Henry tried to sit up; a sharp pain in his stomach persuaded him not to. They'd really layed into him. He lay there a moment trying to slow his heart rate; he then rolled on to his badly bruised stomach and struggled to his feet. The sounds of the bullies' maniacal laughter made his blood boil.

He is a human being that can only be pushed so much before he pushes back. He pulled the razorblade out of this pocket and watched their conceited faces vanish in an instant. The power had dramatically shifted from their hands into his.

He spoke in a low tone. "It's funny, how you're the scared now? I really don't understand why you're picking on me? Is it because I'm smarter, wittier and more of human being than you? Look at three of you. You look like a professional blind date, you're something that someone would only meet in a nightmare, and you are no longer beneath my contempt. Stay the Hell away from me or else!"

He placed the razor blade in his pocket as he stormed away. It was not long till he was pulled into the principal's office and the razor blade easily taken off him. Authorities weren't called because the principle was a close family friend of Caleb, but he was expelled from high school, and this pissed Henry off because it was due to the principal's incompetence everything had lead to this moment. So, his response to this act of injustice was to wait after school was finished and set his car on fire.

A smile crossed his face as he saw the principles expensive Mercedes engulfed in flames. Mr Taylor was naturally shocked beyond words when he saw his car smouldering in the parking lot, but he had no delusions whatever-so-ever that was responsible for it. He picked up the phone again to his old school buddy Caleb and discussed another proud moment in the life of his Grandson.

Caleb burst in Henry's bedroom where he was listening to music. "Is it all true? Going into school high, taking a weapon into school, and setting fire to Ron's car? What the hell has gotten into you?"

"It's true," Henry answered, turning his music off. He walked towards his grandfather and stopped a few inches away from him. "It's funny that me fucking up has gotten you're attention quicker than my attempts to reach out for help. The more I think of you, the less I think of you."

"My God, you look just like you're father," Caleb reveled, knocking Henry for six because he wasn't expecting that. "And I have noticed what has been going with you, but I don't know what I can do to help you. That's why I have called in some people to help you."

Henry's eyebrows rose. "People like who?"

Then his Grandfather done something he had never done before. He wrapped his arms around him and hugged him, but it didn't feel like an ordinary hug, and he felt years full of love passed through it. It was rather overwhelming for Henry. However the reason for the lingering embrace became clear when the so called 'men in white' and cops arrived to take Henry away.

"I'm sorry, my boy," Caleb whispered, pulling away and allowing the men in the room. "You're a little out of control and I believe..."

"I'm not going anywhere with them!" Henry shouted, feeling betrayed by his own blood. He wasn't having any of it. "You better stay away from me! I know my rights."

Henry was scared because sectioning literally means being taken to hospital, being detained and usually treated against your will. All Henry could remember was being thrown to the floor by cops and handcuffed because he wouldn't comply. He was strapped to a chair and taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital where he was locked within in a private room within psychiatric hospital. He asked one nurse if he could leave and she said it was up to the doctor. He asked to see the doctor and she said he had to wait until because she had already made a decision that he was a danger to himself and he needed to be kept for observation. This was fucking fantastic, but he literally couldn't do anything about it. So, he closed his eyes and went to reluctantly went to sleep.

* * *

Henry wanted to crawl up into a hole and die. The uncontrollable shaking, sleepless and anxiety had already been going on for days now.

"You can't keep me here!" he shouted, looking at a man pick up a clipboard. "Let me out of here!"

"We can under the Mental Health Act," informed the doctor, reading his chart and sitting down on an armchair. "Kid, relax, please. I don't want to have you restrained."

Henry froze. "Are you telling me that I'm actually fucking sectioned?"

The doctor nodded. "Uh-huh because of your Bipolar disorder. I read from your notes that you came here under the influence of alcohol and illegal drugs. You know, using alcohol or illegal drugs are known to have harmful physical and social effects, and they're not a substitute for effective treatment and good healthcare. Some people with bipolar disorder find that once they're on effective treatments, they can stop misusing alcohol and drugs."

"Oi," Henry said, clicking his fingers at the doctor. "Dr Doolittle, answer my question."

The doctor looked up and shot Henry a dark look. "I wouldn't click your fingers at me, kid."

"Sorry, but I have a right to know how long I'm here," Henry sighed, sitting down on his bed. "I'm scared that I will rot away in here."

"Listen," started the doctor, standing up and preparing to leave the bedroom. "I know that you're feeling angry, scared and alone. However, you are in the right place and things will get better. I can promise you that."

"How long will I be here for?" Henry asked, folding his arms. "Will I be here until my birthday?"

"You'll be here as long as you need," said the doctor, opening the door to his room. "If you need anything, just ask for me."

Closing the door over, he smiled at someone waiting patiently outside. He held his hand out to the worried man. "Hello, Chris Perry? We spoke on the phone. I'm Doctor Damon Blake."

"How did he take it?" Chris enquired, thinking that Henry didn't take being sectioned well. "I fully understand what he's going through because I'm schizophrenic and I have been sectioned before. It's really scary, especially if it's you're first time being committed."

"Naturally, he didn't take it well," Damon confirmed. "Can I ask Is Dominic always this spirited?"

"He is and it is hard to deal with sometimes," Chris confessed, crossing his arms "That might sound strange coming from me, but I would rather have my mental illness than his. I couldn't cope with the constant highs and lows. Is there anything I can do to help him?"

"Bipolar is difficult for everyone involved. The best you can hope for your cousin is that he learns how to manage his illness, and remains stable for long periods of time," Damon said. "You sound very understanding - he's lucky to have someone like you. Someone with Bipolar Disorder has to be medicated, so he will treated with medications such as mood stabilisers and anti-psychotics. If you have questions give me a call, anytime. You can see him in a few days when he stabilizes."

Chris sighed. "I was hoping that I could see him today, but I understand why I can't. Anyway, I'll be in Vegas for a few days. Can you give me a call when I can see him?"

"Of course," Damon said, holding his hand out to Chris and he shook it. "If there's anything, don't hesitate on calling me."

Chris's phone rang in his pocket. He didn't have to answer it to know who it was. Today was meant to have been his date with Clay, but he is in Las Vegas and not California. He begrudgingly ignored the call.

Damon looked at Chris. "Mr Perry, is there anything else you want to know?"

"Not that I can think of," Chris sighed. "Just keep me updated of what's going on with him. Call me anytime - day or night."

Damon smirked as watched Chris away from him worriedly. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand clutch his hand. He turned my head to face his wife of six years. She was already staring directly at me. At that moment, she moved her face closer to his, and they kissed passionately.

Hazel couldn't believe her eyes. "Whoa, was that who I think it is?"

"Yup, that was the one and only Chris Halliwell," Damon laughed, bring his wife into his arms. "And I learned something extremely useful about him. Apparently, the Charmed One is schizophrenic. You know, people like him have problems differentiating between reality and hallucinations."

"How is this information useful?" Hazel inquired, making Damon place a finger to her lips. She knew to back away from the subject for the time being. She looked up at him adoringly. "How about we stay at our place in California? I'm sick of Las Vegas, and I would like to spend some time with my husband, if it's not too much to ask?"

"Let's go," Damon said, taking Hazel's hand into his. "We'll shimmer out in the car park."

Hand in hand, the couple left the hospital and shimmered back to their apartment in Diamond Hills. To outsiders, the Blakes' had an idyllic relationship, but there was more to their marriage that meets the eyes. Trust, respect, compromise is the essence of a healthy relationship. An unhealthy relationship can be described as co-dependent, selfish, and self destructive. These things can cause a destructive bond between people. Recently, Hazel had been questioning their marriage. Chances are if you're questioning a relationship, something isn't right. She should really go with her gut feeling. It could potentially save her life.


	2. Chapter 2

February

**San Francisco, California**

Normally together Clay usually knows his own feelings, but he has never felt so conflicted over someone in his life. He was really blown over by Chris and really excited about getting to know him, but being stood up by him made Clay want to strangle him. Chris did say that he had a good explanation for it, and he did ask to see him again, but Clay had begrudgingly declined his offer because his pride was hurt. He was now regretting it. Clay insisted that he wasn't moping about over Chris, but Bianca would disagree, and she would constantly tell him to get over his rejection.

Clay sighed. "I don't get it. We made plans, but he never showed up. I waited for about an hour on him like an idiot. He never answered my calls, I text him once and he still didn't respond. Then around one in the morning I get a text from him apologizing for not calling me. He wants to see me later today. Should I give him a second chance or just walk away?"

"You just have to move on," Bianca sighed, sitting next to Clay with a cup of coffee in her hand. "If it was meant to be, he'd meet you. There are plenty of guys out there."

"I know is should get over him," Clay agreed. "That's why I have a date with someone I met online recently. He' not as awe inspiring as Chris, but he will take my mind off things...hopefully."

"That's the spirit," Bianca said, placing a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Just be mature and chill, it's not a big deal at all. Carry on like you never said anything, but don't deny you did either. The right guy will like you back eventually. And at least he rejected you right away and you know to move on. Chin up darling."

"You're right," he said, spinning his coffee cup on the table. He looked at his sister. "How are you today? Sorry, I don't know the answer to your question, but you seem to be doing a little better."

"I'm taking it one day at a time," she replied. "Some days are harder than others. Things will get easier. I will start to have more good days again, but I know I will still have some bad days. I know Austin wouldn't want to see me depressed and sad all the time. I have to say that I'm glad that you're here. I wouldn't have got through these dark times without you."

Clay stood up and hugged his sister. "Grief is messy and painful. Allow yourself to feel what you feel and take time to be sad. Trying to hurry yourself through can cause grief to last longer or pop up later if you haven't taken the time to deal now."

His eyes drifted towards his clock on the wall above her head. His date with the man he had met online was in half an hour, but he had to walk to the cafe because his car was off the road. Grabbing his coat, he said goodbye to Bianca and left the apartment they shared Austin's murder. As he strolled, his mind was filled with the contemplation of how today would end. If it ended well, he would possibly go home with the online suitor, but that would on happen if there if there was a connection. Although, nothing would rival the one he felt with Chris.

As soon as he entered the cafe he saw Tony. He was cute: blonde with bright blue eyes. Clay's nerves began tingling. His palms were sweating as he shook Tony's hand. He introduced himself. "Tony? I'm Clay. I'm so glad that you look like your picture."

Tony smirked. "I'm glad that I didn't disappoint you."

He spoke to soon. During the next hour It was quickly determined that neither of them had anything in common. Tony was rather dull; he has little or no interest in the life around him. He lacked opinions, had no personal interests, and give no feedback in conversation. So, Clay excused himself to go to the bathroom, but he never came back.

Happy to escape, he began walking back to his apartment. It was a pretty horrendous first date, and it was vowed that he would never go on a blind date ever again. He panicked as he felt his phone vibrating inside his pocket. It was probably Tony asking where he was. To his surprise it was Chris.

The endorphins whizzed throughout his body. Maybe he should give Chris another chance? He didn't listen to his explanation for not turning up on their, date and it may be a good one. He texted Chris back, and arranged to meet him outside the entrance of Golden Gate Park.

Clay was not the anxious type, but watching Chris approach turned him into a nervous wreck. He got this heavy feeling right by his heart. It's almost as if I was having some heart burns. Obviously the heart was beating faster. His mind went blank. All he was doing was staring at him as he stopped in front of him. Chris's lips pulled into the devilish smirk of his.

"Hey, I'm sorry that I stood you up," Chris apologised. "But I had to go to Vegas to visit my cousin who is in hospital. He's looking pretty bad."

Clay noticed the worry in his eyes and he could tell that he wasn't lying. "I'm sorry to hear that. How much time does he have left?"

"No, no, no," Chris responded. "It's not like that. Basically, he had a nervous breakdown or something..."

"Oh, that's tough. Healing after a nervous breakdown takes time, months before you feel like you are "yourself" again. Think of what it is like to fall into water unexpectedly. It takes awhile before you can find balance and a firm place for your feet to touch to steady yourself - even longer to climb back out of the water," Clay said, watching Chris raise an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm a nurse at Memorial Hospital. I was training to be a doctor, but I decided to train as a nurse instead. It takes a lot of work and dedication to become a doctor. You have to go to college, then to medical school and then become a resident. I wasn't able to get a full scholarship to college. Plus, there is a shortage in nurses, and I believe nurses get more respect, but not as much as the doctor's of course."

Chris laughed nervously. "Oh, you're a nurse? That must be exciting? I looked into nursing, but I somehow broke into the funeral trade. The best thing about my job is that I wear a top hat. We are normal people, just like everyone else. I hope that doesn't make you thinking that I'm a morbid fucker or something."

"I don't," Clay smiled. "It's a job I couldn't do, so I will give you props. "It's very contradictory that I work with the living and you work with the dead. We'd make a very paradoxical couple."

Oh shit, that wasn't mean to have come out like that, but Chris just smiled at the comment as the pair sat down on a stone bench. The sun was setting and the clouds boasted mystical colours. He was drawn towards Chris like a magnet. He just hoped Chris felt the same way about him.

"So, where do you stay?" Chris asked, spinning his coffee cup in his hand. "You haven't mentioned."

Clay's eyes shifted. "I have my own flat in the Bay area, but I'm staying at my sister's house because she is going through a bad time. Her husband just passed away. She is torn apart by the grief, but trying to act like everything is normal, and I'm scared she is going to break down one day. I'm going to be there when her wall finally crumbles."

"I'm sorry to hear about hers and your sadness," Chris said, standing. Chris's eyes shifted towards an overlooking apartment building. "See the very top apartment with the green roller blinds? That is where I stay. Do you want to back to mine for another cup of coffee?"

"Yes," Clay replied, with no hesitation. "I mean sure...Why not?"

Chris's studio apartment was spotless because he has inherited his mother's mania with cleaning. You could the entire park from his bedroom window. Decorated with neutral tones, artistic pieces and wooden furniture, it gave a slight glimpse into Chris's personality.

"You have a lovely place," Clay complimented, looking out Chris's bay window. His eyes shifted from the view to Chris's reflection as he stood behind him. He turned around to face him. He stared at Chris for a few seconds. "You should be in magazines for those eyes of yours."

Everything stood still for a moment, everything faded into the background, and all he could hear was the beating of his heart. The person before him is all that mattered, all he wanted.

"You know, I realised where I know you from," Chris enlightened. "You play bass in a band called_ Transpired_? I think I saw your band play last June at Steele's."

"Yup, that's me," Clay smiled. "If you enjoyed the gig you can see us next week at Sampler. We're headlining. It should be a good gig!"

"I think I may pop by if you put me on the guest list," Chris hinted, trying to act coy. Clay nodded in response. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea. I haven't been out in a while because he won't let me..."

Chris stopped talking. He remembered that Clay didn't realise he is schizophrenic. He would probably go running if he mentioned that can't differentiate the false voices from the real ones. Luckily, the voices were merely a whisper today, and he could concentrate on Clay.

"Are you talking about an ex?" Clay questioned, noticing that Chris had become gloomy. "Was he controlling you or something? I know the type because my sister's husband had a controlling personality, but he didn't show the signs until you got to know him for who he really was. I know it sounds terrible that I'm speaking ill of the dead, but I didn't always agree with the way he treated her."

"Yeah, it was something like that," Chris responded, running his hands awkwardly through his hair. "Sometimes, he still has an iron grip on me."

"Don't let him control you anymore," Clay whispered, stepping forward and stopping before Chris. "Don't have any connection with this person. You are the only one in control of your emotions. What can this person really do to you? Hurt your feelings. Give yourself some credit. You have worked hard to get past your fear. How long ago did you cut connections with this person? How much longer are you willing to let this be a part of your life. Because it will go away when you truly let it go."

Chris leaned into Clay and kissed him. If felt like Clay's soul was being sucked through his lips, empowered with a jolt of energy, flowing back into him, and running throughout his body, it was intense. He wished that moment had lasted forever.

"So," Chris hinted, looking backwards the direction of his bed. "How do you feel about staying the night? If you don't want, I get it."

"I'd like to, but I need to check on my sister," Clay insisted, letting go of Chris. "Is it okay that I give her a call to let her know that I won't be back?"

"Sure," Chris said, pointing to the direction of his en-suite. "You can go in there for a bit of privacy."

"Thanks," Clay walking to the en-suite and pulling out his cell phone. He looked back at Chris before he closed the door over. "I'll be quick as I can."

Even for him sex was an extremely emotional act. It leaves the other person with power over you, because they have seen you at their weakest. Not being emotionally or mentally ready means you wouldn't be able to handle giving someone power over you... And many people aren't always ready for the possible consequences of the act. However, he was prepared to be vulnerable with him. There was something unexplainable between them. He had to trust his instincts.

He phoned Bianca's mobile and got her voicemail. He assumed that she was sleeping. "Hey, I won't be home tonight, but don't worry about me because I have met up with Chris. I'll explain later. If you need anything, let me know and I'll be home as soon as possible."

Clay's head was pounding with such intensity that it gave a drummer a run for his money. The nerves about having sex had begun to kick in. When he tilted my head, he half-expected it to spill. Opening Chris's bathroom cabinet, he looked for some pain killers and was disappointed not to find any, but instead he found a bottle of pills with the label 'Chlorpromazine.' It sent him into a state of shock.

He was knocked for six that Chris was schizophrenic. He was the most beautiful and thoughtful human being, and Clay did think that he was too good to be true, but he didn't expect this. Could he handle being with someone who was controlled by the voices in his head? Truthfully, he didn't know. However, he knew that he needed time to seriously consider it. Clay opened the door to the bathroom and saw Chris looking thoughtfully out of the window. Chris snapped his head around quickly when he heard the door slam shut. It frustrated him that Clay with no explanation.

By the time Clay arrived home he had three texts, five missed calls and four voicemails. He turned off his phone as he gave a long sigh. Dealing with Chris was tomorrow's problem. A moment of panic set in realising that Bianca was home. Turning on his cell phone again, he called his sister and worriedly waited for a reply. It came, two hours later, but it didn't explain where she was.

* * *

Bianca loved nightclubs; the multicoloured strobe lights, the blaring bass that makes the room shake, and watching the dancing bodies as they tangled together. She hadn't been to her local haunt with green neon signs that aligned the walls, the high ceiling with fairy lights hanging from it, and a balcony upstairs with booths to sit since her engagement to Austin. This was once her second home, a place she felt safe because everyone knew her. She couldn't handle being alone right now.

The alcohol seemed to curb the emptiness inside. It feels like nothing matters anymore and that nobody cared about her, despite the contrary. It's a horrible feeling that wouldn't go away. She had to get used to facing the world on her own without Austin.

"Penny for your thoughts," said a female voice, sitting beside her. Bianca turned her head to look at the woman. "A problem shared is a problem halved."

"My world feels like it is imploding," Bianca frowned, spinning her drink in her hands. "My husband died last month. I built my life around this man and I feel like I am left with nothing. I don't know anyone in this town and this is why I go out by myself lots of times. In fact, that would make me feel worse. My heart is broken. I feel like a huge piece of my life is missing... I feel lifeless. I was doing well with staying busy, starting new hobbies and so on, but I don't feel the energy to do these things anymore. Why me? Any words of hope or suggestions would be nice."

"Honey, I'm not going to say it will be easy because no one ever said it would be, "sympathised the woman. "Stay positive so that positive things can happen around you. You may feel like crying sometimes, and that is fine. Don't suppress your feelings, girl. Let it go because it will help. Know that what you are going through right now is not only for you, but you will be able to help someone that is going through something similar one day."

"Very impressive," smiled Bianca. "Are you a councillor or something? That was really good advice."

"Actually, I'm just a psychiatrist's wife," replied the woman. "I spend a lot of time reading his psychiatry books because he is never at home. For the longest time, I've felt totally alone in our relationship. We never do anything together. I'm starting to think that our marriage is too far gone."

Bianca picked up her drink. "If that was me I would leave him, it's no use dragging on with a guy who clearly takes you for granted! You'll spend the rest of your life crying over the fact that he doesn't give you enough importance, and it's a miserable feeling...you deserve better than him. Hang on till you meet someone who treats you like a princess throughout your life, not just through the initial fairytale months."

"That's what I feel inside, but I love him too much," exhaled the woman. "I guess it's a common attribute of a Phoenix man to disregard the feelings of a Phoenix woman. They are a bunch of archaic bastards."

Did she just say Phoenix? Bianca looked at the woman for a subtle giveaway that the woman was a Phoenix. She located a birthmark on her right forearm. The woman reached forward and grabbed Bianca's hand. Her brown eyes landed on the birthmark on her right wrist.

"I take it that you are not active within the California Chapter," asked the woman, not recognising Bianca. "I would definitely be familiar with your face if you were. My husband is the director of the California Chapter."

Bianca pulled her wrist away. "Yes, I'm not, but my husband Austin was..."

"Wait...Austin as in Austin Gray?" enquired the woman, making Bianca nod. The woman's eyes darkened. "Sweetie, I heard some rumours about what happened to him. Are they true?"

"Which rumour? The one where he was shot on our honeymoon?" snapped Bianca, her anger rising. "Or was it the rumour about the monster that killed him raping me repeatedly?"

The woman sat in a shocked silence for a few minutes. "I never heard anything about a rape. I'm so sorry that it happened to you. I think monsters like that should be executed. Something like what happed to you scars people for life. These monsters don't see anything wrong with what they do either... "

Bianca began to cry, finally acknowledging something so painful that she had kept hidden deep within her brain. This woman felt the same way about the monster as she did. She began to contemplate if she could use the woman to get into the Coven. It was a tangible possibility.

"Hey," hushed the woman, wrapping an arm around Bianca's shoulder. "You'll get through this, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but a day will come when everything will be easier. You'll be happy again."

"I hope so," sniffled Bianca, brushing away some tears. "I'm so sorry for all of this. I don't normally tell my business to strangers. It has taken me completely off guard."

"Don't apologise," stated the woman. "It seems that listening to other people's problems is something that Auntie Hazel is good it. "

"We'll thank you, Hazel?" said Bianca, holding her hand out. Hazel smiled as she shook it. My name is Bianca, and if there is anything I can do for you let me know. Actually, if you fancy an aromatherapy massage or something I'm your girl! I'm a trained holistic therapist. I'll even do it for free as a trade for some more counselling."

Hopefully Hazel would accept the offer because it would get her one step into the coven. This would be one step closer to Austin's murder and her rapist. Then she would get her revenge on the entire coven.

"You know what, I'll take you up on that offer," Hazel agreed, standing up from her barstool. "Let's go the now and I'll pick up some more liquor. We'll have a girly sleepover, without the pillow fights in our underwear, of course. I couldn't stand another night alone in that big house of mine."

Hazel hated being alone too. During the short ride in the taxi, she gave Bianca her life story. She met her husband when she was eighteen, married him at the age of twenty one and since then she stayed at home as a home wife. Not happy with this way of life anymore, she told her husband she wanted to start a career, but this was something her husband quickly vetoed. It was something Bianca he experienced too. She had to give her job when she became engaged to Austin. Phoenix men were notoriously traditional. Phoenix woman had to stay at home and look after children, or the alternative was working for the Coven in some capacity.

"You really have the magic touch," complimented Hazel, feeling Bianca run her hands up and down her back. "If I was you I would open my own business or something. You would make a lot of money!"

"I used to have my own business, but never again!" Bianca disclosed, ending the massage. "It was too much stress. However, I think I will try and get a part time job at a spa. Try and take my mind off everything."

"I think I may join you," Hazel said, beginning to get dressed as Bianca cleaned up. "Well, not massaging, but something that motives me to get my bed out of the morning."

"Good for you!" encouraged Bianca, pulling her mobile phone out of her pocket. She noticed a text from Clay. She replied to it. "Do what makes you happy, not what makes your husband happy. Well, thank you for tonight, but I better go home."

"Don't be silly! Stay here" insisted Hazel, walking towards the hallway and motioning Bianca to follow. "You can stay here in the guest bedroom. Get breakfast here tomorrow then go home. I wouldn't feel right about sending you home in a taxi at this time of night."

Bianca's exhausted eyes looked at the Queen-sized bed with silk sheets. She agreed to stay because she may get a better sleep here than her own house. The horrifying flashbacks still haunted her. The house was currently up for sale because she counted lived there after Clay moved back to his own apartment. It was only a matter of time before he moved out. Hazel retired to her bedroom, thankful that the house wasn't empty, it was comforting. Bianca surprising fell asleep easily.

* * *

Ten hours later, Bianca woke up feeling incredibly rested and energised. After showering in the guest room's en-suite, she applied her makeup, and contemplated asking Hazel if she could borrow some jeans to make her look more presentable. She would get a lot of raised eyebrows if she walked home in a black sparkly dress.

She heard movement in the hallway outside and presumed that Hazel was awake. After making herself look more respectable, she made the bed and made her way towards the kitchen. She got a shock to discover that it wasn't Hazel in the kitchen, but someone she didn't expect to see again. Damon dropped his bowl of cereal on the floor because he was knocked for six by her presence in his home.

Damon looked at his breakfast on the floor. "Umm...sorry, but I didn't know that my wife had guests. I mean I assume that Hazel knows that your here?"

"Oh hey, yeah Hazel knows I'm here," she said, observing his relaxed appearance. He was dressed in sweats and his hair was swept over his forehead and not flawlessly slicked back. He began to clean up the mess on the floor. "We were hanging out last and she said that I stayed here last night. Is that okay with you?"

Damon smirked as he straightened up. "Of course it is! It's most man's fantasy that his wife brings an attractive woman home."

"I bet," Bianca laughed, feeling uncomfortable. "Is it okay that I grab something here to eat because I'm starving?"

"Let me see," he said, turning away from her and opening some cupboards. "I have eggs, bagel and some cereal. Does anything take your fancy?"

"Hmmm...Some bagels if you have cream cheese," Bianca contemplated, licking her lips. Damon began to prepare her breakfast and handed it to her when it was prepared. Bianca looked hungrily at her plate. "Thanks, that looks delightful."

"Not a problem," he smiled. "Preparing bagels is one of my many talents. I'm so glad that you didn't ask me to make a Spanish omelette. You'd be greatly disappointed."

She laughed. "I'll count myself lucky then!"

What was wrong with her? She must still be really fucked up. He isn't available! That should be enough to put her off; she needs a man who will be able to feel the same about her and treat her with the love and respect she deserves. She began to feel guilty about having a crush because of Austin. Although, he has ran through her mind a few times since that near miss kiss. Same for him!

"Hey, gorgeous," Hazel greeted, walking into the kitchen in just a robe. She kissed her husband good morning as Bianca looked away awkwardly. Hazel stroked her husband's chin. "And hello to you to, Dame."

"Morning, beautiful," he smiled, looking at Bianca. "It would have been nice to we had guests."

"I'm sorry, but you know we didn't do much talking last night when you got in last night," Hazel smirked, prompting a disapproving look from Damon. Her face softened. "I'm sorry, babe. I should have told you, but I was just so happy to see you. I have really missed you."

"It's alright," he said, wrapping her arms around her body. His eyes drifted from his wife's face to Bianca's. "So, how are you going to get home? Do you want me to call you a cab?"

Hazel interrupted before Bianca could reply. "Don't be silly! You can drop her off, can't you?"

"I can just get a cab," Bianca insisted, placing her coat over her glittery dress. "I don't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble," Damon said, letting go of his wife and grabbing his car keys. "Come on, let's get on our way. Then I'll come back and spend some quality time with my lovely wife."

After exchanging contact information with Hazel, Bianca hugged her goodbye and followed Damon to his expensive BMV. If it was purely something in her head, then having a crush on him was not inappropriate. It only becomes that way when one foolishly acts upon their feelings of this nature.

Her eyes looked at Damon. "It must be hard for you to juggle your job as a psychiatrist, the leader of a coven chapter and successful marriage. How do you do it?"

"I manage somehow," he laughed, concentrating on the road. His pleasant demeanour turned cold. "Hazel told me about what happened to you. I understand what happened to Austin, there are rules and if you break the rules there are consequences. However, what happened to you was inexcusable."

"I don't want to talk about it, "whispered Bianca, wanting to change the subject. The hangover had begun to kick in. "My lord, my head is killing me. I'll be going to bed as soon as I get in."

"Well, you don't have long to wait," Damon said, pulling his car outside her car. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the passenger side door, but she didn't exit the car because she felt Damon's hand grab onto hers. He pulled his hand away as he pulled as business card out of his pocket. "If you need to talk about anything, let me know. Enjoy your recovery from a bitch of a hangover."

Bianca smiled as she accepted the business card. "I will. Can you tell Hazel thanks for everything and that I would like to meet up with her soon?"

Damon agreed before he drove back home. She rolled her eyes at herself as she watched him drive away. You can't stop how you feel, it just happens. She just would give it time; she may get over it the inappropriate crush after a while. It wouldn't be that easy...it would be impossible.

* * *

**Las Vegas, Nevada.**

Infamous Las Vegas gangster Caleb Mercer received a devastating phone call at four thirty- six in the morning. He immediately made his way to the hospital where he was greeted by the hospital pathologist, who ushered him quickly into the room and closed the door over. It was his son lying dead on the gurney. He gazed in horror at the sight before him and vowed to destroy those had done this.

White as a sheet, he left the morgue and was greeted outside by a muscular man. His face showed distress and as he closed his eyes, drops slowly ran down his face. He had wiped them so much they were red and swollen. When he went to look around, his vision was blurry; it was difficult for him to see clearly. Internally, his blood began to boil with red hot rage.

"Spencer, I want to know who is responsible for this," he voiced, staring darkly at the muscular "When I find out I'm going to make them pay for every bruise on his body."

"Are you going to tell the boy?" Spencer asked, seeing in Caleb's blue eyes complete detestation, mixed up with some grief. Caleb shook his head. "I think you're making the right choice. We don't want anything to jeopardise Nikki's recovery, but how are we going to deal with all this with him being home?"

"That's why I think he should stay for a while with his biological Aunt and Uncle," Caleb said, making his jaw drop. "I think you and Maddie can look after him better that I can. It'll be only temporary, until I find the bastard who done that to my son."

Spencer's face was a picture. "I'm not sure if we're in the right place to raise a teenager, but we'll take him into till his eighteenth birthday. Then we will discuss things then. Does that sound like a deal?"

"Yes," Caleb frowned, feeling grief overflowing his body. He fought back some tears. "We should get your house ready for him. Bring over some of his belongs and things that will make him feel comfortable."

The short drive back to Caleb's house was silent; neither could speak, too shocked by Christopher's death. As Caleb's car pulled into the Mercer driveway, the silence was broken when both of them noticed several lights on in the seemingly empty house. Spencer, Caleb's confidant and bodyguard exited the car first, cautiously entered the house and quickly pulled a gun out of a shoulder holster. Room by room, he searched every inch of the house; coming at a stop outside his nephew's room. Placing one finger on the finger on the trigger of the gun, he kicked the door in and pointed the barrel at the gun at the figure standing in the middle of the bedroom. Henry threw his hands up.

Henry panicked. "Woah woah woah, it's only me, Spencer."

"Hey kid, did you get a haircut? I didn't' recognise you," Spencer apologised, lowering and unloading his weapon. "What are you doing here? I was supposed to have picked you up at six."

"They let me go early and Chris picked me up," Henry said, putting his hands down. "He'll be back later because we're hanging out. Do you think my Grandfather would be okay with it?"

"Sure," Caleb agreed, walking towards his grandson. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad to see you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm glad to be home," Henry replied, shrugging. "But I still feel like the world is falling in on me and there's nothing I can do about it."

"It will take some time to get back to normal," Spencer said. "Just hang in there and don't worry about it."

Caleb cleared his throat. "Look, kiddo, we need to talk to you about something. I have decided that you are going stay with your uncle Spencer and aunt Maddie for a while..."

"You're kicking me out?" shouted Henry, dumfounded by the suggestion. "You know, I thought that things would be different when I came back, but obviously I was wrong. I wish I felt like you loved me, but I guess I will never feel love from you, ever!"

"Dominic," started Caleb, shaking his head. "I do love you, but I can't give you the support you need to get you through this difficult time. Your aunt and uncle can provide the stability that I can't provide you with at this moment. This is still your home and you can come back whenever you want!"

"If you don't want me, I guess that I can't make you," Henry moped, crossing his arms. "You know, you're a failure as a parent. Why did you take me away from my _real_ family?"

"I am your real family," snapped Caleb, knowing that he had a point. "My decision is final. Now, go and pack some of your belongings, Spencer will take you home with him tonight. You'll get the rest of your things tomorrow."

Silence filled the room. Anger radiated from Henry like a light bulb. He had the urge to punch his grandfather in the face. He resented him for taking him from his loving, supportive and stable adoptive family. The distraught expression on Paige's face is engrained at the front of his memory.

Bang! Explosions from a firearm broke up the stillness of the room. Henry swore that he hear one bullet swish past his ear. He raised his hand to his face sure he was wounded. He wasn't, but it was obvious that Spencer was because he was now lying on the floor, bleeding from wound on his shoulder. The masked gunman bounded into the room and pointed his gun at Caleb, who dropped to his knees with his hands up. He closed his eyes are prepared for death.

"You want me, leave the boy," Caleb begged, his hands shaking above his head. "Let him live, he has entire life in front of him. Don't do to him what you did to his father."

"What happened to my father?" Henry questioned, looking at the masked man, and then at his grandfather. Tears fell from Caleb's eyes as he recounted the memory of his son on the mortuary table. Henry looked at the man again. "You son of a bitch, you're going to pay for coming after my family. I swear to God."

Volcanoes pounding behind his eyes, hot rage burned in his veins, and he wanted nothing more than to destroy, tear apart, and kill the man who had murdered his father. Running towards the man, Henry knocked him to the ground, and the gun left the man's hand. He struggled against the man on the floor. Being punched in the head was loud. He hear it a loud thump, like thunder, right inside his skull, and then both of his ears were ringing. His fist collided several times with the man's face, stunning him with each blow. His hands found their way to Henry's throat that at once began to tighten. He tried to pry the man's fingers away, but he is slowly losing conscious. Lifting his head upwards, he head butted the man in the nose, feeling him loosen his grip on him. Turning his head, he saw the gun lying inches away from him, and frantically grabbed it, knowing that it may his only chance of survival. The man lunged forward as Henry pulled the trigger. Henry was shocked to core that he killed him.

"Oh my God," Henry gasped, dropping the gun. He leaned forward and turned the dead man over. "I have killed him! What am I going to do? I can't go to jail."

"You won't," promised Spencer, injured, but thankfully alive. "We'll make sure that nothing happens to you."

Henry's stomach swelled up. He tried to force himself not to think of murdering him, but that made him think of it more. He felt like he was on a roller coaster, the walls even seemed to shift up and down, and his stomach began to have an excruciating pain. He stumbled towards his bathroom and vomited violently into the toilet bowl. His insides were literally breaking away from his body.

"Hey, It was purely self defence," Caleb said, walking into the bathroom. Henry turned to look at him. "You done the right thing and saved you're family. I can't put into words how proud of you I am."

"You're proud that I'm a cold blooded killer just like my father?" Henry said, slowly standing. He closed his eyes. "Do you think it was him who killed my father?"

"I don't know, son," replied Caleb, shrugging. "But I promise you that I'm going to find out."

Terror set in when both heard Spencer's southern drawl conversing with a familiar Californian accent in the next room. Rushing into the lounge, Henry saw Chris stand over the dead body, looking down at it with alarm. Henry became worried about Chris's fate because he would report the murder.

Chris looked up at Caleb. "Please tell me that he isn't dead."

"Chris," started calmly Caleb, entering the bedroom. "What are you doing here? This is private property and you can't just waltz in here without an invitation."

"Well...Why don't you call the cops on me?" Chris taunted, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "And while we're at it we'll deal with this small matter."

He was shoved down onto Henry's bed before he could dial 991. His cell phone was removed from his hands and threw the other side of the room by Caleb. Chris knew he would be in trouble if he didn't play his cards right. He prayed that he wouldn't have to help to cover up the murder.

"Let me go," he demanded, unable to get up from the bed. He struggled against Caleb's hands, but he was quickly overpowered. He surrendered. "Alright, I give up, but I want nothing to do with this. I promise that I'll never say a word."

"Tough," Caleb smirked, mockingly slapping Chris's cheek with his hands. "And you'd better do everything I say unless you want to be dead or an accessory to murder."

Chris knew better than to cross Caleb. He realized that his only chance of not having the same fate as the lifeless man on the floor was to obey every single demand. He knew Caleb had no qualms about killing anyone. This included him and everyone he loved. This consisted of his beloved family. The unfortunate conscience was that he could help Caleb. The minor detail that Chris was an undertaker hadn't gone unnoticed by him. He was going to use this to his full advantage.

The body was loaded into Chris's hearse, driven to twenty minutes down the highway, and when it reached its destination it was parked up and the body was quickly smuggled into the funeral parlour under the cover of darkness. Inside, the body was cleaned and groomed, and then dressed fresh clothes. It took over four hours for the body to be cremated in a furnace. The flames removed the evidence of Henry's crime, but they couldn't remove the guilt. It was killing him from the inside.

"What's the matter?" Henry enquired, looking at Chris, thinking it was a silly question, but he was going to ask it none the less. "Look, I'm sorry that you have been dragged into this, but it's not like you had a choice. I hope you understand this."

"Trust me, I know," Chris agreed, his head resting on his hands. He looked up at Henry. "Between you and you, your grandfather terrifies me. It stills ridiculous because he is in his late sixties and stands barley over five feet, but you can see pure evil in his eyes. He's not one of those little wannabe street hoodlums who rat-pack together and shoot at each other out of car windows with stolen pistols. He's a real Gucci wearing ganger who can have anyone taken out anywhere in the world just by picking up the phone. The guy I helped dispose of is a prime example."

The guilt for the murder was like heavy burden was harassing Henry's consciousness. He was ashamed and filled with regret, feeling the need to confess to Chris about the murder. Henry confessed. "It did it; it was me not my grandfather who shot him, Chris."

"You did what?" questioned Chris, laughing nervously. Then the sudden realisation of Henry's admission of guilt sunk In. "I pray to God that you're lying and that you're turning into a psychopath just like your father."

"I'm not turning into my father!" Henry shouted, bounding forward. He stopped in front of Chris, promising himself not to cry, but the death of his hero was truly devastating. "Chris, my dad is dead. Someone strangled him to death in his cell last night. Then someone bastard breaks into my home, shoots Spencer, and then points a gun at my grandfather. What am I meant to do? Let the bastard murder him? Give him the chance to kill me? I'm sorry what I done, but I'm not sorry for protecting my family. I'd do it for you."

"I'm so sorry about your father, I know you were close," Chris said, watching Henry becoming emotional. "I heard about what happened to him indirectly, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."

"You can stop thinking of me as a monster," Henry pleaded, trying to regain composure. "I need you on my side. The last thing I want is you hating me, thinking that I'm some psycho who enjoys killing people. Don't ever bet against me."

"Okay, I will," Chris nodded, rubbing his chin. "But you're coming back to California with me. It's too dangerous for you to be living in Vegas. I promise that I and the rest of your family will protect you and you'll never have to fight for your life again. You'll never live like previous generations of your family did."

"I can't show my face to Paige, to any of them," Henry said, shaking his head. "How can I show my face to them after what I have done? They'll want nothing to do me after they find out. I can't handle that, not now."

"Fine," Chris sighed. "I mean what I say about you coming back to Cali with me. I can't have it on my conscience if I go home and something happens to you. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

"I couldn't live with myself if something happens to my grandfather, Spencer or Maddie," Henry frowned. "I appreciate your offer, blood is thicker than water, and I must to stay here with my family. They need me."

"But we're your other family too. Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?" Chris asked, making Henry shake his head. Chris knew he had made his mind up. "Fine then, but I'm going to come by more and check on you. I need to spend some time up here anyway because of the business. If you're going to change your mind, and I hope you do, change before I leave for Cali."

"Chris, I'm not going anywhere," Henry insisted, two set hearing footsteps come from behind him. He turned around to look at Caleb and Spencer. "Hey, how's the shoulder?"

"I'll survive, Dom, "Spencer laughed, running a hand out the now bandaged wound. He eyed Chris with suspicion. "Are we interrupting anything? Topher, thanks for your assistance, but we don't need you for anything anymore. Caleb and I will take things from here. Nick, you need to come somewhere with us, your Grandfather has arranged some emergency talks with the rest of the crew."

"Wait...you want me to go to a conference?" Henry enquired, surprised by the invitation. "You have vetoed me to going to them in the past, why am I going to one now?"

"Because you're one of us now," Caleb said, stepping forward and straightening Henry's shirt collar. "You have proved that you're worthy enough to join because you risked your life for your family. Plus, you need to come with us to complete you're initiation and get your wings."

"Great, my seventeen year old cousin is becoming a gangster," Chris voiced, becoming irate. He turned him round to face him. "Dominic, please don't have to become one of them. If you do chances are you'll get shot or, arrested, or something. Do you think that dealing drugs and killing people will be fulfilling to your life? It's better to just go to college or work a normal job than risk your life in a gang. Imagine you join a gang, and then you realise you don't wanna be in it anymore. If you leave, they'll either have to jump you out or you'll get killed. I know you're a teenager, and want the girls and the money, but think about your life first. Listen to me; I can take you away from all of this."

It was a tough choice; loose his Grandfather's much wanted approval or go against his other idol and possibly loose him forever. However, he knew in his heart what his decision was.

"When we do leave?" Henry asked, looking at the disapproving expression on Chris's face. He sighed. "Chris, you said you would do anything to for me. Prove it and come with me! I really could use you there. Don't go back on that promise. You're already involved in this, so you should ready come to."

"Okay," Chris said, crossing his arms. "If you want me there I'll come with you. Is that okay with you, Cal?"

"Yes, you can," Caleb smirked, finding the prospect rather amusing. "Just don't start with your holier than thou attitude. The big dogs won't appreciate your smart mouth and you'll probably get a fat lip. Come on, let's go, they're expecting us."

* * *

The emergency conference was held in _The Griffin, _a local tavern located just off the Strip. Caleb ran the bar as legitimate business with another big time gangster. A long standing affiliation between Caleb's crew and the Phoenixes was seemingly strong, unbreakable, and it had been tested many times in the past. It was once believed that Henry's biological mother was a Phoenix, but this was deemed as hearsay. The only person who would know if this was true was the late Chris Mercer.

"I wonder what they're talking about," Henry said, sitting on a bar stool at the bar next to Chris. "It seems like they have been at it for hours. "

"They're probably discussing their retaliation for your father's murder," Chris commented, watching Henry become subdued. "Hey, I didn't mean to make you sad, but I really think that you don't need all of this crap. This is why I think you should come back to California with me. we'll get you through this terrible time."

"I'm staying here," Henry repeated, slamming his hand down on the bar. "There is literally nothing you can stay to change my mind, so please stop!"

The doors of The Griffin slammed open with a massive thud, causing all eyes to turn the couple making an entrance to the popular haunt. The couple we're familiar to most of the faces in the bar, but seeing the two well-known faces together made Henry choke on his drink. The woman he lost his virginity to was with his psychiatrist. Not only with, but apparently wearing his ring on her finger. Damon walked over the table where Caleb was sitting, greeted him and off of his associates, and sat down after motioning the bartender to get a drink. Meanwhile, Hazel walked towards the bar, sat down on her usual bar stool, and ordered her standard drink. She turned to face Chris and Henry because she felt their eyes fixated on her. A flicker of amusement instantly appeared on her face.

"I'm going outside to make a phone call," Henry said, seeing Hazel leave the bar to smoke. "I'll be backing soon, don't go anywhere."

"Okay, I won't," Chris said, waving him off. "I'll be here, drinking my sorrows. I hope you think long and hard about my offer."

Leaving the bar, he found Hazel smoking at an alleyway at the back of the tavern. He walked towards her with purpose, wanting to confront her about their liaison while she was still married. He would probably be in deep shit if Damon found about their encounter. She smirked as he approached her.

"Well, well, well," Hazel greeted, lifting a cigarette to her lips. She blew a puff of smoke in his face. "Hello, easy on the eyes, what's shaking?"

"Oh, nothing much," Henry replied, lifting her left hand up to inspect her ring. "Funny, you weren't wearing this the night we slept together. Imagine my surprise when you walked into my local with my shrink. Imagine his surprise if he found about over rendezvous in a local motel. He may be slightly pissed off, but I'm sure you can worm your way back into his affections somehow. "

Hazel pulled her hand away. "Please, he can't find out what happened between us. Are you seriously going to tell him and get both of us killed? I don't think us sleeping together was a mistake, but the fact I was unfaithful would destroy Damon, and he would most definitely destroy the both of us."

"Why do you cheat on him?" he asked, his tone softening. I deserve an explanation. I'm wracking my brains to figure out why someone like you isn't getting treated the way you deserve at home, which is making you go out to find try and something that'll help ease the unhappiness you feel."

"I don't love my husband, I haven't for years if I'm honest" she frowned. "He doesn't know and I have put my feelings to the back of my mind and carry on in a loveless marriage because I have to. He would probably kill me if I left him. I have already felt the full wrath of his temper before."

"Have you tried talking to him?" he asked, already guessing the answer. "I am sorry you are in such a lonely spot in your life. It sounds like you are married to a very selfish man. Will he change? I don't think so. Haze, I think you deserve better beucase you're beautiful, intelligent and wonderful. It's very sad that you have not found reciprocal love. I hope you find peace. Good luck and best wishes..."

His back collided with cold brick wall of the alleyway. He felt her lips attack his with such fury that it was overpowering. The kiss was rather unexpected, but not unwanted. He couldn't stop thinking about Hazel since that night. He prayed that they would meet up again. He gave into temptation.

"Ahem," said a voice, interrupting the kiss. Both turned around to see Chris staring at them with disbelief. "I got worried because you have been away for a long time, but I can see that you're doing just fine."

"Excuse me," Hazel blushed, brushing past Chris. She opened the tavern door. "I better go, my husband is probably wondering where I am."

"Dude, she's married?" Chris shouted, watching the doors slam shut. "Who the hell are you turning into? I barely recognise you!"

"Oh, shut up, Chris," Henry said, storming past him. "Don't like what I'm doing, don't watch, but certainly don't critique every single little thing in my life."

"Dominic," Caleb shouted, upon him entering the tavern. He smiled proudly at his grandson approached as various sets of eyes stared curiously at him. Some gasped at the resemblance between Henry and his recently deceased father. He placed as hand on Henry's shoulder. "Many of you don't know him, but this my grandson Dominic, the future of the Mercer family. Even though this is a sad day for our organisation, something good came out of it. Nick proved himself as a man and protected his family from most likely certain death. Due to this he has earned his wings."

Hugs and pats on the back were in plethora. Henry felt something he had never felt before: Pride. He had that good feeling inside himself that was a part of something that was bigger than him.

"Where do you want the wings?" enquired a tattoo artist, holding a tattoo gun in his hand. "Come sit down on this chair when you have decided. "

"On my back," Henry said, pulling his shirt off. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and opened a picture of one of his own tattoo designs. He had prepared his own design anticipating a day like this. "I want them to look something like this, covering both of my shoulder blades. Don't scrimp on the outlines and shading, I can handle it."

"Are you sure you can handle it?" It's pretty brutal for a first tattoo," asked the tattoo artist. Henry nodded his head and the artist began to draw the outline on his back with a Sharpe. When it was complete he picked up the tattoo gun. "Okay, you're pretty hardcore then? If it's too much I'll stop."

Henry tried to conceal the fact that he was a nervous wreck. Several sets of eyes where looking at him, including his grandfather, and he didn't want to lose his approval. He soon discovered that he was all worked up for no reason. The needle felt like a constant scratch along with a vibrating sensation on his skin, but it wasn't bad at all. He felt that he could sit there for hours to get it done.

From a distance, Chris was watching the initiation, but he was not feeling the same sense of pride that Caleb was. Henry was a lost cause in his eyes and any attempts to influence him hadn't worked in the slightest. All he could do was leave, praying that he wouldn't have to prepare his own cousin for his own premature funeral. He walked to his hearse, unexpectedly coming to a stop in front of it because of something sitting on top of the bonnet. He could help but smirk at the sight before him.

"I think I have seen this scene in a movie before," Chris teased, looking a Hazel sit suggestively on top of his hearse's bonnet. "I know this is Las Vegas, but things like this don't happen every day."

"I'm glad that I'm breaking up your day," Hazel smiled, leaning forward. "I'm here to ask you if you're going to blow mine and Nick's little secret. If you are, I'm going to have to kill you."

"Yes, I will, but it'll come at a price," Chris laughed, walking closer to his car. "No, I'm only joking, and I won't tell Damon about your secret shame. This more for Dominic's benefit, he is still my cousin, and I'll do everything to protect him."

"Thank you," Hazel thanked, sliding off the bonnet and stopping before Chris. She looked at him with intent as she boldly loosened his belt. "And it's a pity that I'm not going to find a way to buy your silence. We could have come to some kind of agreement that that suits us both."

"I'm sure we could," Chris said, stepping backwards as he fastened his belt. "It'd probably be amazing, but I can't do that to my cousin or you husband for that fact. I'm very flattered, but you're going to have to bat your eyelids elsewhere."

"Shame, I like batting them at you," she said, stepping forward and her hand reached to behind Chris's head and pushed it down towards hers. Their lips met in a fiery kiss. It was obvious to both of them that things weren't going to end there. Hazel broke away from his lips. "Come on; let's go before someone see's us."

"Yeah," Chris said, hastily entering his car as Hazel did. He looked at Hazel as he switched his engine on and began to drive off. "I bet this will bite me on the ass on day, but right now I couldn't care less we'll go back to my motel room, hope that's okay."

He thought screw it because Henry and Damon wouldn't find out if they were careful. Hazel was smoking hot and he'd be crazy to resist her. He wasn't the one in the relationship, so he wouldn't be doing anything wrong. Things couldn't be any more from the truth in reality. Chris would learn this in time.


End file.
